I am invisible.  I know what you are thinking. You're thinking I meant to say invincible. But I didn't.

I have known that I am invisible for a long time now. I am invisible when I am by myself and when I am with someone else.  Let me clarify.  I have wonderful friends, who when I am around them I am NOT invisible.  I am included in conversations and listened to when I talk about something.  I have even had times when people have seemed to hang on my every word.  It's wonderful!

I am more specifically talking about when I am out in public.  I have walked through very public spaces; stores, concerts, streets, churches. People walk past and most of the time don't even look at me.  I have stood at Home Depot trying to load 4 x 8 sheets of drywall onto my cart and have had employees walk right by me. I have had people step in front of me when I've been in line at the grocery store or at a venue.  No excuse me, no I'm so sorry. Nothing.  The latest happened at a function I went to with a couple of co-workers.  There were about 600 people there. It was crowded and loud.  I "sorry-ed" and "excuse me-d" my way around the place.  We would be stopped occasionally by someone who knew one of the women I was with.  They'd gush over her and make small talk. Look past me to the other woman we were with and remark about how beautiful her top was and then go on their way!  One man, standing in front of me in a line for the bar, literally turned around and shouted in my face to his girlfriend who was behind me.  I could see his eye's slowly focus on my face, a look of mild confusion on his. Then he moved towards me and sideways to see her. His action was a non-touching way of moving me off to the side.  I was nobody.  He was irked that I was in the way.  Was in his space.  It was rude and offensive.  It was also unnerving.  I was so utterly unimportant.  Someone at church, someone I know, walked past the pew I was sitting in and sit down in front of me.  When I touched his shoulder to say he, he turned around and said "oh, Tracey, I didn't even see you there"  : (

When I am out with certain people in my life, we have no trouble getting attention. Waiters, staff at stores, strangers even.  They stop and help and talk.  But it's to the people I am with, not with me.  Is it because they have big, bold personalities where I tend to be quieter, more reserved?  Is it because they are tall and slim and I tend to be shorter and, lets face it , fatter?  Or am I just that ordinary that I'm not worth the time.

I am okay with this most of the time. Like I said, it's been something I've dealt with for a long time. May be it's my super power. Truth be told I would rather have had the ability to fly, but this could be helpful in certain situations. 

What it does do is make me wonder about other people. Specifically people I have over looked in my travels.  I know we get busy and we have a lot of things that run through our heads all day long.  But I know how nice it is when someone acknowledges my presence, even if it's just for a few seconds in a grocery line.

Something for me to work on.
What I don't need to work on is my invincibility! That is a done deal!

10 Years

Ten years ago I had my last chemo treatment.  Ten years.  It's gone by in a blink.  I only realized it after seeing a post by a friends son on Facebook. He was remarking that 10 years ago he got married. I was at that wedding.  I had my last chemo on Thursday and then Saturday was in the church watching them say their vows.  I wore a scarf on my head, as I didn't have a wig.  It slipped around all night and made me feel more self conscious than if I had just gone with the bald look.  I tried doing fake eyelashes, since mine were gone, but the left one fell off just as she was coming down the aisle, so I pulled the right one off too.  It's not that I felt ugly or ashamed of being bald or eyelash less.  I just didn't want to take anything away from their special day.  

The really amazing thing is that all throughout my course of treatment, time crawled along.  There was never a day that went by that didn't involve some kind of medicine or appointment or talk about cancer.  And if I hadn't seen that post, I wouldn't have even thought about the fact that 10 years ago I was being hooked up to what was basically poison, in the hopes that it would kill any cancer cells that might have been left after surgery.  Oh yeah, and then the radiation to kill what the chemo didn't. I would never have believed that that fact wouldn't be forefront in my mind on a daily basis.  And yet, it wasn't.  Life has become full of so many other things.  Sadness, for sure.  Far too many losses.  But so many wonderful gains as well.  It is a remarkable thing, the resiliency of the human body and mind.  I am grateful for that. I am grateful that I am still here, living and breathing and moving forward.  I am grateful that I am able to experience being a grandparent.  It brings me a joy I never knew existed.  I am grateful to have my children nearby.  I am grateful for many wonderful, loving friends and family.  I am grateful for the man who is by my side now and has been there for close to 35 years.

And I am grateful for seeing the post marking the 10th anniversary of  Jon and Leslie Cook.  Two wonderful people who's special day marks an anniversary for me as well.  Here's to us and to the next 10 years!

Time Out Tuesdays

 My mother used to say my father was incredibly shy when they first met.  She would be mingling with everyone at a party and he'd prefer to be sitting in the corner by himself.  Then one day, at a party, he kicked all the throw rugs at the hosts' house down the stairs, pretended to pull a goldfish out of a bowl and eat it (it was really a carrot) and the rest is history.  He was social.  That's how I know him.

During my childhood, my father always seemed at ease talking to anyone.  He could talk construction equipment (his line of work), he could talk mechanics, stereos, sailing, home decor, current events, you name it, he could speak to it.  My parents made a great pair that way.  Always at ease in any social situation and always the center of attention.  But as I realize it now, it was always on their terms. 

For instance, if someone, god forbid, stopped by our house uninvited, my mother would literally lock herself in her bedroom until they were gone.  She'd tell us to tell whoever it was that she wasn't home.  She would not meet anyone unless she was prepared to do so.   

   

My father was better about that but as we get farther from the date of my mothers death, I see him reverting to his old self.  He can still do a party, but he spends less and less time attending.  He pulls away to spend time by himself.  I think I can relate to that.  As much as I’d like to be in social situations and can handle it for certain periods of time,  I do love the time that I get to be alone.  Not even because it affords me that ability to do anything special.  I just get to be.  

Beginning this year I have reduced my work schedule to four days a week instead of five.  I just felt like I wasn't getting anything done and that extra day off during the week would afford me that ability.

What I have found instead is that I spend a lot of that time doing nothing. Or at least nothing productive.  I had great plans of catching up with friends or family, cleaning the house, exercising. But for the most part I haven't.  I feel badly, like I am wasting time.  There are all those quotes about making the most of every day.  Carpe diem and all that.  But I just can't bring myself to go there right now.  Instead, I am living the "take time to stop and smell the roses" one.  I think that is what my body and my head need right now.  A time out.  I know that it won't be forever.  And I am trying not to feel guilty for the luxury of having it.  So I am going to enjoy it for now. 

Time out Tuesdays. Who's in?

Christmas and other oddities

Someone posted something on facebook the other day that said the older I get the more the things on my Christmas list are things that can't be bought.  Time with family, good health, a granddaughter.  But I realize that I have a lot of things on my list that I can't have either.  Too many family members have gone.  Those big, harried family dinners with people yelling over each other and stealing meatballs out of the sauce are over. Being young and carefree, a thing of the past.

I find myself longing for those crazy times.  I wish I could go back and pay more attention to what was going on.  Talk to more people and actually listen to what was going on, instead of always being in the kitchen or setting a table. If I knew they were going to be gone so soon, we would have eaten off paper plates and skipped the china all together!  No amount of moist turkey or unlumpy gravy is worth that amount of time taken away from the gathering.  Away from the connectedness of family and friends. Because as you find out, always too late, once it's gone it's gone.

So I am vowing to try and be more connected this Christmas.  To spend less time worrying about the food and more time finding out about how my son's life is going.  And what is new with my son in law. Sharing family stories with my girls.  And along with my husband,  glorying in my granddaughters first Christmas.
Wish me luck!

Patience is a virtue.

So.  We are coming to the final days of my daughters pregnancy.  It has been a good one, from what I have been told. It's hard to not be in the same state as she is experiencing all these changes.  But we are all working to get them home, so that is for another post.

As we count down the final days, I find myself more and more impatient.  With everything. It's like nothing will be right until this baby is here.  People driving around me on the way to work are more annoying.  The songs on the radio are pissing me off.  Clients at work are beyond frustrating.  I can't concentrate.  I can't think more than a few minutes ahead of time.  And I'm only the grandmother!  What is my daughter feeling.  It's funny because I was there three times.  And yet, I really don't remember that clearly how I was feeling at that time.  I think it's because once it's over, any frustration or pain or impatience, it's all forgotten.  You have that new life in your arms and you are suddenly thrust into a whole new chapter in your lives.  You are now busy with midnight feedings and diaper changes and laundry (who knew something so small could produce so much laundry!).  Life picks up speed at a rate you really can't comprehend.  Everything is marked by a milestone.  First smile, first word, first step.  Then, God willing, second child.  More smiles, words and steps.  It keeps you racing forward until you wake up one day and find out the last one is moving out.  A whole new chapter.

It's all good.  They are all things that everyone should experience.  The love and the heartache.  It would just be nice to be able to hit a pause button every once in a while.  To be able to take a breathe and really see what's going on around you.  To really be able to take it all in, before it's gone and the next thing has come along.

I realize that as I say this, I am wishing for the baby to be here now.  To race forward to that moment when she comes into the world and opens her eyes.  Ah impatience.  Be careful for what you wish for, it'll be here and gone before you know it!

Bubbe

So, I'm going to be a Grandmother!
A few years ago, I would have been horrified at the thought.   My mother certainly was.  She refused to be called Grandma or Nana.  We finally settled on Marnie, a familiar version of her name Marilyn.  Deadly glares would be visited upon anyone who uttered the "G" word.  It was upsetting at first.  I took it like she had something against my children.  I gradually realized that it was part of a deeper issue that my mother had with regard to her age and self image.  It was sad, because she was a beautiful and talented woman, although I don't think she ever saw herself that way.  As she grew older she did relax a little and I did finally her her identify herself as a grandmother before she died.

I on the other hand had a feeling that my children were never going to leave the house.  So the thought of having another body in the house was slightly overwhelming.  But, as they all do, my children have moved on and I am now ready to have someone to dote on.

So now the big question.  What will the little being call me?  There are certain names that are absolutely out.  Granny, Grammie, Gammie, Gamma.  No.  I don't think of myself as a Nana.  I do really like Grandmummy, but I have been told that it's too stuffy.  Mama G sounds like I should be riding a Harley.  Oma and Nonni are the wrong ethnicity.  Someone suggested Tata, but I think that that sounds more like a stripper name.

Then I remembered Bubbe.  Yiddish, yes, which I am not.  But it is such a great name.  When I hear it I think of warmth and comfort and for some odd reason, food.  All good things for a grandparent to have and to provide, right? I used to think that I would want to be a "cool" grandparent.  But the closer it gets to becoming a reality, I really only want to do one thing.  Get my arms around that baby and hold them close.  And then to get my arms around my daughter and hold her closer and thank her for allowing me the privilege of becoming a Bubbe (or a Grandmummy, that one is not totally off the table yet!)

a funeral

Today we had a funeral. My maternal grandmother, Nana, died at the ripe old age of 103. There were 6 of us attending, my father, my uncle, my brother and sister, my husband and I. When you live to be 103 you don't have any friends left or a lot of family, either. It was a nice enough service. The pastor knew my grandmother and had actually done the service when my grandfather passed away 16 years ago.

We sang a couple of songs, he read some scripture and prayed. We got in the car and drove to the cemetary and said our goodbyes. But in actuality, I think I had said my goodbyes to her years prior. It's hard to see someone you love become diminished like she did. Physically she was fine. Right up until her death, she was only on Tylenol for pain, no IV's, no oxygen, no feeding tube. She went peacefully in her sleep. But she hadn't known who I was for years. Sure, she'd smile when she saw me, but she did that to everyone she saw. She'd also try and take her clothes off or steal shiny jewelry.

The Nana I remember had bright red hair. She loved shoes and purses and make-up. She ate lobster and cooked with lots of garlic and fresh herbs. She had a huge garden in her backyard, which was something because they lived in the city. They grew grapes, strawberries and raspberries. Garlic, carrots, lettuce and tomatoes. And rhubarb, which lined the back fence. She let us drink Coke and had Tang and Space Food Sticks in her pantry. They ran a vacuum and appliance store at the front of their house. I remember walking through it and seeing all the vacuums and sewing machines. My grandfather had a room off to the side where he repaired things. My grandmother had a small post office in one corner of the store for many years. We'd sit up on her high stool and play office, stamping papers and counting change in the drawer. There was a convenience store on their corner that when we were older, we would walk to. We would buy candy buttons and candy necklaces, boxes of Smarties and MacIntosh's Toffee.

She wasn't the typical grandmother, who would bake cookies or read you stories. She was working and when she wasn't, she and my grandfather were golfing or travelling. She went on a game show once in NYC and won a bunch of prizes. She went to Switzerland and Acapulco. They owned a home in Ocala. They were cool.

And she was the inventor of the May goodbye. The goodbye would start, usually in the kitchen with hugs and kisses and promises to come back and see each other again soon. Then it would gravitate out to the living room where there would be more hugs, more talking. It would then move on to the door, where my Nana would take my mothers hand and press money or some other goodie into it, telling her to just take it, while my mother would say "no Mama, I can't", but she always would. It would then move to the porch and down to the driveway, before we would finally all be in the car, backing out of the driveway while they waved from the porch. It was a long goodbye. But never final, always with the promise of seeing each other again.

Like today. It's been a long goodbye, but I'll see you again Nana.